Heartbeat
by Troid
Summary: Luka Megurine gains a chance at living a real life when one day she is given a voice, but she never could have dreamed that life would lead her to sing alongside the owner of the voice she fell in love with before they ever met. Miku/Luka.


I hope you're as excited to read this story as I am to finally be writing it!

* * *

There was that song again, drifting to Luka's ears from some corridor.

Sometimes it had a lively beat, and sometimes it was slow and gentle. Sometimes strings and flutes played along with it, and sometimes it was all synthetic. Often she heard it coming from outside the dark room of austere metal they kept her in, and rarely could she catch it spilling from the headphones of some employee who came in to clean or move things around. That was new; only recently had they upgraded her hearing to the point where it could pick up sound that faint.

The song was frequently different, but there were a few variations she heard much more than the others, and most of those were the ones she liked best. Sometimes she heard other songs, but she didn't care much about those. She could differentiate between that song and the others because it always had the same singer, the same voice. The voice she loved so much.

She couldn't have known she was just one of billions. She couldn't have known her favorite songs—or what she thought were all one song—were reflected daily in scores highlighted by words like _platinum_ and _chart-topping_. All she knew was that she loved the song, and loved the owner of that voice.

"Why are its eyes closed?" The words came from a man, standing a short distance away in the room where they kept her. She didn't have to look at him to know his name, rank, and the fact that he was wearing a white lab coat. They never wore anything else.

"It does that sometimes," said another man's voice, and there was a slight rustle of clothing that must have been a shrug. "We aren't sure why."

"Well…" Footsteps. The man was taking a closer look. "Shouldn't it be analyzing us for threats?"

"It probably already has." The second party sounded unconcerned. "Besides, it has a lot more senses than just sight."

Apparently satisfied, the man stepped back. "When does combat testing begin?"

She heard a scrape as a pair of glasses were adjusted. "Within a week. We've already completed the endoskeleton and internal organs, as well as the AI framework. The tactics program will be completed on schedule and we'll install — ah, there you go." She had opened her eyes.

The music was gone, and without that tantalizing thread of sound to hold on to, she returned her attention to the bare room around her. She didn't really look at the two men. Even when the second of the pair stepped in front of her and met her gaze, she didn't acknowledge him. What he'd said was in fact correct; she recognized these individuals and didn't consider them a threat, and therefore she had no interest in them.

Speaking slowly and enunciating clearly, the man asked, "Why did you have your eyes closed?"

Silence.

"Oh," said the man in realization, and then he patted his pockets and began looking around the room. "It needs—where's the—oh, never mind." He turned back to his coworker. "We've been having trouble getting it to talk. Before we were using a keypad, but I didn't bring it with me."

"Is that a problem? Will you get it working?" Obviously the first man was some kind of supervisor.

The reassurance was given, "It's not a very important function, and of course we'll fix it eventually. After combat testing, maybe."

The two exited the room, the supervisor giving her one more once-over. Their words were understood and retained in her memories, but she didn't pay them any regard in her thoughts. Now, her existence was what it always became when that song wasn't being played somewhere she could hear it…

Waiting for the song to return to her, alone and in silence but for the unchanging beat of her own heart.

For the next several weeks, nothing out of the ordinary happened. People came and went for routine maintenance checks—nothing in need of fixing, checkbox filled, exit—and so forth, never staying for long and never addressing her at all. Most of the time, the roughly featured metal silhouette that was her body sat alone in that room. She spent her time waiting; when she was able to catch hold of the song, it helped with the feeling of aloneness. The rest of time…she simply didn't think about anything, because it was easier that way. Nothing suggested this pattern would ever be broken, but in just those few weeks' time, something happened that changed her routine of thought for the first time since she became aware of herself being pieced together on a table.

At first, the only thing unusual about it was that more people entered the room at once than usual. When they asked her to, she reached back and slid a panel open on the side of her head, exposing some kind of port. Two of them moved over to her, carrying a small, cylindrical capsule, which they held up to the port. Already she knew this was an update of some sort, like the many they had added to her programming before, so she prepared to integrate the new data.

The capsule was pushed into place. "Loading tactical programming," came a distant voice.

There was a click, and everything inside her broke.

It wasn't until the uninstall completed that she was able to think again. Slowly her limbs stopped trembling, and she relaxed the tension that had seized her body. The two researchers who had been standing closest to her were on the ground a considerable distance away, clutching different body parts. She tried to remember what had happened, but there was nothing but blank space from the moment she had felt herself buck violently and then… For a brief instant she felt something unfamiliar in her chest. It took her a moment to realize what it was: her heart hammering. She was scared.

Somebody was apologizing over and over, though not to her. "It must be a compatibility issue," she heard. "The new program is conflicting with the existing artificial intelligence. Give us more time. We'll work on it, I assure you…"

A woman she didn't recognize was talking to the nervous programmer. "And what if it's a flaw in the existing AI itself?" The man paled. "Well?"

"But… We would have to start over again on both fronts. That would set the project back years…"

"Then you had better pray it's a problem with the tactics program." The woman was leaving.

Slowly they all began to file out of the room, some with unsettled half-glances back at her, until finally she was alone again.

This time, weeks passed and not a soul entered the room.

She wanted to hear the song again. She wanted that lovely voice to come and comfort her, to take away this hollowness that had set in when she had learned whatever it was in that programming that she had since forgotten. All traces of it were gone, but that feeling it had left her with wouldn't vanish. If that voice would come back, she would feel right again… But she didn't hear anything. Her hearing extended far into the vast facility she was buried within, but she couldn't hear a single sound besides the turn of machinery, the drip of water in pipes, and the pounding of her own useless heart.

In almost a month's time, she felt herself slipping into something like sleep, and she welcomed its embrace.

It was months before she opened her eyes.

o – o – o

When consciousness returned to her, it wasn't total. She opened her eyes, but saw through a haze, and found could not move. Before she could resolve what she was seeing into anything recognizable—for some reason, the urge to rely on sight was stronger than usual—she was again taken by the dark of her almost-sleep.

Drifting in and out of wakefulness, she gradually realized there were people surrounding her, doing things to her interior workings, and they weren't people she recognized. Her surroundings, too, were unfamiliar, though they resembled the labs where was built before being moved to the dark room. Unable to move, she couldn't act on the weak impulses she felt from her rudimentary defense programming, but she didn't feel concerned about it.

Finally, after some amount of time she couldn't know, she was able to focus enough to see a man standing before her. He was rather large in the waist, wore a casual business outfit, and had kind eyes. He met her gaze and said something. In her state she couldn't make sense of the sound, but she could lip-read, and for the first time in her life she perceived an address that wasn't a question or command. The man repeated what he had said, as if he knew she was having trouble understanding.

_Everything's going to be all right_, he mouthed.

In a matter or seconds she was under again, but not before a glance downward through her blurry vision revealed some kind of material being constructed around her legs—a cast of something red that was very different from metal.

She woke up less and less after that, or she thought so, anyway. She wasn't used to sleep or unconsciousness or whatever it was, and it made her—of all things—very tired. Something seemed to be changing, bit by bit, and every time she woke up she felt different but couldn't find the mental energy to think about it.

The next moment—or was it weeks later?—something changed she could identify. The lights were suddenly turned up too high, the fluorescence making her close her eyelids tightly and try to block out the brightness—

—but then it wasn't fluorescent light strips blinding her, but sunlight streaming through a window. Slowly, she opened her eyes as the light became bearable, until finally she could see through the eyes it felt like she'd never used.

She was in a pristine white bed, all voluminous sheets and fat pillows, with rails on each side—a hospital bed. The equipment beside it hung unused, however, and she was unfettered. Shaking the haze from her mind, she looked up and around the room. It took her several seconds to notice the man seated in a chair just across the room.

"Hello!" said the man when he saw her looking at him. This was the same man she's seen when slipping in and out of consciousness. "My name is Mr. Okada." She could only stare blankly at him, all kinds of strange thoughts—emotions?—tumbling through her head. "You're probably confused right now," Okada continued, "but I'm going to help you straighten things out. First, please take a look at yourself."

_Please._ A request, not an order. Slowly, she let her gaze drift down, until at last it fell upon her bare arms resting on the sheets. Bare was certainly true of clothing, but she was shocked at what _was_ on her limbs. Instead of mechanical, metal structure, she saw skin. Skin, moving as she moved, covered with goosebumps in the cool air, skin that was definitely her own.

One discovery led to another. Out of the corner of her eyes she saw soft strands of something falling behind her shoulders; she followed those strands to discover her long, straight hair hued pink. From there she ran her hands—with their nails, their fingerprints—over her face, past her clear blue eyes, down the bridge of her nose, and to her lips. A small mirror on the bedside table gave her a view of the contours she had just traced. She kept going until she had taken in every inch of this new body she possessed. It felt like so much more than the sum of its parts. It felt…alive. She felt alive.

Finally, she looked back almost reflexively to Okada, who appeared to have been waiting patiently. "We've completed you," he said simply. "We've given your body everything it needs to live the life your mind deserves. Of course, we made a few minor adjustments to your programming as well, but nothing to interfere with your emergent consciousness or memories."

The words 'memories' and 'emergent consciousness' were foreign and somewhat frightening to her, and 'programming' didn't seem to mean as much as it once had. She continued looking at Okada with a wide-eyed, slightly empty expression, and he seemed to understand. "You were designed to be a highly functional machine," he said seriously. "You were given the most advanced AI, AI which is now known to generate self-awareness—or, as we like to call it, a consciousness. Your mind. However, the corporation that was commissioning that research and development was dissolved, and their labs along with it. Crypton, the company I work for, has since acquired you."

The man smiled reassuringly. "But we don't think of it like that. Just as I said, we've done these things to you so you can be an autonomous individual, not property of some board of directors. You certainly won't be the first—androids are becoming completely integrated into our society." He looked apologetic for so much as differentiating the word. "Some are even famous. Have you ever heard of Miku Hatsune?"

She shook her head, acting on another sudden impulse that suggested it was the appropriate thing to do. Okada smiled again. "You're one of the few. Well, you'll know her soon enough. She is Crypton's biggest star—a pop idol. We at Crypton develop all kinds of cybernetic technology, but by far our biggest investment is the program that acts as producer for Miku and others. And that brings me to my next point." He leaned forward in his chair. "There's one other thing we've given you: a voice."

She returned his gaze for a moment before saying haltingly, "A voice?" Immediately her hand flew to her mouth.

Okada nodded, looking pleased. "You aren't a machine, and you shouldn't talk like one. You have a real voice now, able to talk, laugh…and sing."

She hesitated, almost scared to speak again, but in the end she had to try despite herself. "Sing?"

Abruptly, Okada stood up. "You should rest for now," he said with a slight air of good-natured evasiveness. "When you're ready to talk to us, push the button there." He gestured to a call button resting on the table. "We'll be right in."

Before Luka could ask who "we" referred to, the man had left the room, and she was left alone with hundreds of confusing thoughts and feelings. Every few seconds a new sense would assault her, every sensation somehow much more real than before. First she concentrated on sound, on the way Okada's footsteps faded outside, on the steady pair of thrums from inside her own chest. There was something incredibly physical about it; more than just perceiving the sounds, she could imagine the displacement that created them… Touch, too, was practically redefined, and the softness of the sheets around her was somehow intrinsically comforting. Even just holding her hand with her eyes shut and letting proprioception tell her where it was, with no perceptible list of coordinates, was new and exciting.

On top of her new sensory experience were her thoughts, jumbled and racing around in an attempt to make sense of each other. Suddenly, it felt like she had a purpose, a right, a responsibility, or some mixture of all of those: to exist. To live. Her beating heart wasn't just sound and touch—it was life. A life she now had to, wanted to, ought to start living.

She didn't know when she had put her head down on the pillow, and she didn't remember falling asleep. She only realized she had gone to sleep at all when she saw the clothes that had been laid out on a chair beside the bed. Reaching over and pulling them onto the mattress, she looked them over. The suggestion seemed to be that she wear them instead of the gown she was in, and she certainly didn't mind wearing the fashionable black trimmed with gold.

She decided she couldn't sit there any longer. She was exhausted still, from whatever she had undergone in her unconsciousness in the past weeks, but she had to have answers. Without hesitating, she reached over and pushed the call button.

Waiting tensely, she found herself unable to even focus on the approaching footsteps in the distance as she had the departing. She _could_ have, but somehow her own pounding heart seemed much too distracting—not just the sound, but whatever jittery feeling it seemed to be dispensing throughout her body. Nervousness.

Finally, the door opened. As it slid aside she briefly saw Okada's kind face, but he didn't enter the room. Instead, a woman in formal attire walked in. Her reddish eyes matched her short brown hair, which was neatly trimmed and itself well-matched with the pantsuit of dark red she wore. She had a wholly serious look, but her face melted into a smile as she addressed the woman before her. "Hello," she said. "My name is Meiko, and I'm the CEO of Crypton Technologies. It's a pleasure to meet you."

"I'm…" She trailed off, unsure of how to finish her sentence.

"You know your name, don't you?" Meiko continued smiling encouragingly at her. "Go on."

"I'm Luka," she said, eyes widening as she at last gave voice to something she'd always known but had never been able to comprehend. "Luka Megurine." After a moment, she added uncertainly, "It's a pleasure to meet you too."

Meiko nodded. "Well. Would you like to take a walk with me?" She gestured to the door.

"I'd like to," said Luka slowly. She folded down the rail and pushed the bedcovers off herself, and tentatively swung her legs over the edge of the bed. The cold air again brushed over her skin. Letting her toes briefly touch the tiled floor, she noticed a pair of shoes had been placed there. She slipped her feet into them and slowly, hesitantly, she got to her feet. Her legs did not betray even a tremble.

Meiko was waiting. "Shall we?"

o – o – o

They walked through the hallways of what seemed to be just a small infirmary wing of a larger building, invitingly lit but at the moment empty. Luka followed in silence, waiting for Meiko to speak, until at last they reached the main floor.

Meiko came to a stop at a large window, part of what was practically a wall of glass, and indicated that Luka should look out. "Welcome to Crypton."

The window opened onto a huge shaft, all around which the hundreds of the building's floors could be seen through their own vast rings of windows. Most of them were office floors, with a few lounges and other sorts of areas visible. Illuminated only by the sunlight shining from a skylight far overhead, Luka could see all the way down the shaft to the reception floor at ground level. "This is our headquarters," said Meiko. "Most of our manufacturing and researching facilities are elsewhere, but there are a few labs here, underground."

"You're…" Luka was finding it gradually easier to articulate her thoughts. "You're called Crypton Technologies. What kind of technology do you make?"

"Everything," answered Meiko simply. "It was never our intention to be a monopoly, so we focus on essentially every area of modern technology. Our research has gone the furthest in the fields of artificial intelligence and robotics, however."

The phrase _artificial intelligence_ stuck out to Luka, stirring thoughts she wasn't sure she wanted to have. Meiko must have seen the consternation on her face, because after a moment she said, "You must still be getting a handle on things. If you have any questions, please ask me."

Luka nodded silently. Meiko watched carefully for another moment, then continued.

"Over the years, Crypton has had various pet projects," she explained, beginning to walk along the windowed wall. The pleasant carpeting muffled their footfalls in comparison to the hard tiles in the infirmary wing. "All kinds of branching research, forays into different production media, and more. Most of the projects either ran their course or were sold off to interested parties to be run independently of Crypton. But since I took over from my father, the company's focus has been on one particular program. Something new. Something that's made us more famous, and made us more money, than any of our technological research." The woman paused. "Something I hope you'll be a part of."

"What is it?"

"Singers," said Meiko. "Pop idols. Crypton has launched the careers of several musicians to date, and the endeavor has been a success beyond anyone's wildest dreams. Miku Hatsune, our star, has _billions_ of fans around the world. I was one of the first artists Crypton produced, but we weren't—"

"You were a singer?" said Luka, surprised. Realizing she'd interrupted, she hastily apologized, but Meiko dismissed that with a shake of her head.

"I was," she replied. Then, she chuckled. "Contrary to what you may expect, I didn't inherit control of this company from my father. He wanted me to succeed him, but all I ever wanted was to be a singer, and that's what I became. But when Crypton saw the success of the unconventional kind of singing career we experimented with, they decided to keep the 'program' going." Meiko smiled reminiscently. "It was only when my father died that I realized singing wasn't what I wanted to do for the rest of my life. I still sang for a while, but this company was what I dedicated myself to. I rose through the ranks, and…" Meiko let herself trail off. "But this isn't about me. It's about you.

"As I was saying, we were completely unprepared for Miku's popularity. She's a sensation. With her fame, and the other very popular artists who have Crypton as a producer credit, this pet project has become our biggest division. We've actually opened a separate headquarters for management of it, out of absolute necessity. In fact, I think it's time that our so-called 'diva project' became its own company…but that's for me to worry about for now." Meiko bared her teeth briefly. Luka found she could hardly look away from the confident, elegant woman. "But, that's just the issue here…" Meiko went on. "The future."

They had covered an appreciable distance around the central ring, affording Luka a different view of the floors below as well as revealing ranks of elevators set further along in the wall. The sun was disappearing past the edge of the skylight, but Luka noticed a series of light strips beginning to supplement the sunlight with a soft, natural-looking glow. Returning her attention to Meiko, she saw the woman had stopped. She looked Luka directly in the eye. "It's a future you can be a part of if you want to, Luka. Miku is the next generation here at Crypton, and we're looking to make this generation the strongest and most lasting in our history."

Luka couldn't wrap her head around what Meiko had just said. "You want me to be part of the next generation… What do you mean?"

"Practically speaking, you already _are_ the next generation." Meiko seemed to realize she wasn't being clear. "You'll be the next artist we launch, Luka. You'll be a star."

"What?" Luka stared at her. "You want me to be a singer?"

Meiko nodded. "If you want to, we would be more than happy to stand behind you."

"How…" She couldn't make sense of it. "How can I be a singer? I don't even know who I am. I know all kinds of things, things like how to walk, and what this building is used for. I even know how to sing." The words tumbled from her lips. "I know what the world is like. But I've never _lived_ in it." She found she felt almost scared. "How can I be a singer when I've never been anything?"

The woman put a hand on her shoulder. Her face showed kind understanding. "Don't worry. We won't force you to do anything. But all that is exactly one of the reasons we're offering you a job, as it were—it will help. We'll help you. We can give you something to do, something to focus on, and believe me, you'll learn 'how' soon enough. Living is…well, it's only natural." She smiled wryly. "And trust me—if you choose it, this path will be nothing short of a crash course on life."

"But I…I just don't understand," said Luka. The empty-hole feeling in her stomach was calming, but even as the fear left her, the uncertainty didn't. "How can I be a singer if I'm…I'm a…"

"An android?" Meiko gave her a strange look. "I'm one, too, you know."

"I — you are?" Again Luka was taken by surprise.

"Yes." The woman slowly flexed her wrist, and for the first time Luka noticed the faintest _whirr_. "Miku, too, as well as…well, everyone Crypton's been producer for. Didn't Okada tell you?" Meiko seemed to be trying to be delicate without being sure it was necessary. "I guess I don't know just when you were originally created, but these days no one cares if you have metal or bone under your skin." She smiled. "We all have a little of both, anyway."

"I see," Luka said slowly.

"You don't have to decide now," said Meiko, motioning Luka toward the elevators. "You can stay at our headquarters for as long as you'd like, or at the residence we've prepared if you prefer. If you decide you don't want to work with us, you can still choose to live there." She sounded sincere, though a little businesslike. "In the meantime, would you mind accompanying me a bit further? There's someone I'd like you to meet." The door to the elevator slid open at her touch.

Luka made to enter without a word, still unsure what to say. The interior was not what she'd expected, with a low ceiling and seats on three sides. Suddenly no longer sure she was in an elevator, Luka followed Meiko's example and sat. As the evidently concave doors began to close, Meiko said aloud, "East HQ."

A moment later the carriage took off, speeding not up or down but backwards, leaving the office building behind in the blink of an eye.

Panels in the walls slid open, providing windows out of the pod, which had a bullet-like shape. Luka could see that they were suspended between three rails, hurtling through a busy city full of skyscrapers and highways, lit by the setting sun and the glow of luminescent signs. "Sorry about that," said Meiko with one of her smiles. "It really looks like an elevator, doesn't it?" She gestured out the window. "This system—the tri-rail—allows for some of the easiest and fastest transportation in the world, both long-distance and in urban environments. We could have it rolled out to entire cities without much trouble, but…"

"What?" prompted Luka.

"Never mind." Meiko sighed, but kept an upbeat expression. "Just more things that are for me to worry about."

Below, without rails to guide them, cars sped freely over the many roads crisscrossing each other far into the distance, now lit equally by the sun and the electronic billboards that appeared to be on every surface. As Luka watched, one especially large board switched from the time, date, and temperature to a twenty-meter high portrait of a girl with long blue hair in twintails.

"Oh!" exclaimed Meiko. "Well. There she is."

"Who?" asked Luka, squinting. The advertisement appeared to have dates and locations, but no name to identify the woman.

"Miku Hatsune."

_So that's what she looks like._ Luka's gaze lingered on the image. Meiko had said she had billions of fans…such numbers were inconceivable to Luka. But she could sense something special that perhaps explained it. There was just something in her face that gave Luka pause. And then the image was gone, replaced by an advertisement for some kind of digitally intelligent kitchen sponge.

"We're almost there," said Meiko. "I think—"

Her words were lost in a sudden howl of wind and noise as a pod sped past opposite them on the adjacent rail, making Luka flinch. Meiko began again. "I think it's important for you to meet this person before you make your decision."

Gradually the transport began to lose speed. As it slowed, the shadow of another enormous tower—though perhaps one smaller than the building they had just left—fell over it. Then, they were plunged into the darkness of a tunnel leading into the skyscraper, and towards whoever Luka was going to meet.

o – o – o

Once the carriage had come to a stop, the hatch opened to reveal another set of elevator doors which were just sliding open themselves. Luka followed Meiko out and into another hallway. Although this floor of the building was similar to the one they'd left behind them, a few differences gave it a more inviting, less anonymous atmosphere. Colorful designs ran through the carpeting, and the walls were decorated with photographs of what looked like various concert halls jam-packed with attendees. Looking down one of the many hallways, Luka could see a series of photos that depicted the construction and expansion of one especially large venue. Even at that distance, Luka could see in the furthest pictures that the stadium had become absolutely massive.

"This way," said Meiko, catching her attention. Together they walked down a corridor that looked to open into a larger area ahead.

"She's been dying to meet you," Meiko went on, and then chuckled lightly. "I hope you got some rest."

They walked through the open set of doors at the hallway's end and entered a spacious lounge. It was all couches and armchairs and footstools, arranged around a few tables with assorted reading material—plus coasters. In addition to the digital newspapers and some recent magazines, Luka noticed a small pile of well-worn books. The only title visible to her, on the top of the pile, was _number9dream_. Currently the room was populated only by a coffee maker and a drink fountain.

Meiko looked like she was about to say something in explanation, but she was spared the need as a pair of double doors on the other side of the room swung open, and in walked a woman with blue hair and bluer eyes—blue hair in twintails. Miku Hatsune was followed by a younger girl with blonde hair, whom she was facing and talking to animatedly. "…not even there. I would have — oh, my gosh!" She stopped short as she saw Luka.

"Miku, Rin, this is Luka." Meiko nodded to them. "Please treat her well."

Miku was hardly paying attention to the older woman. "You're here!" She strode over to the newcomer, and before Luka knew it, her hands was clasped between the girl's, being pumped up and down in a vigorous handshake. "It's so great to finally meet you."

Luka could only manage, "Hi." Not much of a greeting. She wanted to do better, but she was overwhelmed by her own racing thoughts. That voice.

"I'm Miku, and…" Despite Meiko's introduction, Miku stared expectantly at the green-eyed girl.

"I'm Rin," she completed, throwing in an eye roll. "As if there's anyone on this planet who doesn't know you, you still insist on introducing yourself… Anyway, hi, Luka."

"It's polite!" sniffed Miku. "But anyway!" She turned back to Luka, who jumped a little. "Can I give you the tour?"

Luka was sure of it—this woman was the owner of the voice she'd heard time and again. Miku Hatsune, world-famous singer. Should she say something? How could she explain just what that voice meant to her?

Meiko cleared her throat. "I don't think we'll be doing any tours today."

Miku's face fell, but then smiled at Luka again. "I'll be looking forward to it, okay?"

Luka wanted to say she didn't mind, but it seemed like Meiko had other plans. Instead, she smiled back and said, "Me too." It came out sounding much more shy than she'd intended.

The star met her gaze for another few seconds, then abruptly looked away as a grin broke across her face. "Sorry," she said with a laugh. "I'm just…glad you're here."

There was a stretch of silence. Luka noticed the girl, Rin, looking at her almost critically, but she couldn't keep her eyes from drifting back to Miku. It felt like she'd come a thousand miles just to meet the singer, and Miku was happy to see _her?_ Meiko looked to be about to wrap things up, but suddenly Luka felt as though she wouldn't mind spending the rest of the day in this lounge, so long as that's where Miku was.

"Miku, you should head to the studio," said Meiko with the air of someone who had just checked her watch, deflating that notion of Luka's. "I'll contact the two of you to meet up with us again tomorrow. All right?"

Rin nodded, and Miku said, "Okay!" Rin made to walk out the door, but turned back, apparently remembering something. "Hey, am I on for anything tomorrow? I wanted to go with Miku to…"

Miku caught Luka's attention. "Meiko will take really good care of you," she said. "Try to relax and enjoy it here! I know you're still considering everything, but nobody expects you to decide in a few days. So in the meantime…" She smiled, her eyes on Luka's, and Luka felt a skipped heartbeat. "Let's get together lots and have fun, okay?"

Apparently done being chastised by Meiko for not knowing her own schedule, Rin was heading out the door. Miku followed her, turning back to Luka one more time to wave. "I can hardly wait!" And then she was gone.

"Well," said Meiko with a brief smile. "It's already late. If you want to stay at the apartment we have for you, we should be on our way now."

"I'd..." Luka only hesitated for a split second. "I'd like to stay here."

"All right. You can stay in the infirmary if you want, or we have guest rooms—"

"The guest rooms," said Luka automatically. "Please."

Meiko nodded. "Follow me."

o – o – o

In the guest room, a very well-furnished lodging with a double bed, Meiko showed her where a few things were and then prepared to leave. On her way out, she stopped and turned back for a moment. "I don't expect you to have an answer in the morning," she said seriously. "As long as you choose, we'll continue showing you how things work around here, to give you a sense of what it would be like to work with us. Tomorrow we'll sit in on a recording session, and I'll show you more of our facilities." She smiled knowingly. "Maybe Miku will give you that tour."

Luka simply nodded.

"If you need anything, call for me." Meiko looked around, perhaps thinking whether she'd forgotten anything. "Okay then. Now, you should get some sleep."

"Sleep?" Luka glanced at the bed. Of course that's why she was here, but…

"Yes, sleep." Meiko laughed. "You'll find it very refreshing, I promise."

Asking once more if Luka needed anything, Meiko bid her goodbye and left the room, and Luka was once again alone. Yet somehow, even as she lay awake in the darkness, she didn't feel alone at all. Finally she closed her eyes, and before long she fell into peaceful, dreamless sleep.

o – o – o

Luka was wide awake and waiting long before Meiko came to knock on her door. The moment the woman entered, Luka drew a deep breath and said, "I want to sing."


End file.
